Long Live the King
by ElvisShepard
Summary: This is a Fanfic about my favourite faction in Fallout: New Vegas, the Kings.
1. Chapter 1

I decided I'd try a fanfic about a faction called the Kings in Fallout: New Vegas. It's set in 2278.

Chapter 1: The King has spoken.

Tommy sat outside The Atomic Wrangler. It was late at night, judging from the dying sounds of the Atomic Wrangler patrons. Tommy figured he still had some time to go, though. He trusted his old friend Aaron to arrive per his usual schedule. It did feel odd, sitting on a path outside his favourite bar. He had been doing it for four days now, as the King instructed. Tonight was when Tommy could finish this job, one he had wished wasn't a job. One to be forgotten.

"Aaron is a King" the King had told Tommy on his second night of the alien stealth and observation he was not so used to, "..but the Kings must protect those who live in Freeside. Any King who does not is no King of mine."

And that was it. Simple. The King wasn't known to order people to do things they'd rather not, but this situation was not one encountered everyday in the slum that is Freeside. No, this was closer to home. As close as possible.

Tommy looked up the street as his hand stroked his rough dark beard, towards the Silver Rush. In spite of the situation Tommy couldn't help but smile. Here he was, sitting outside a bar in the middle of the night, wearing sun glasses and inspecting his fine facial hair. Not to mention the classic King hair-do. "Cool as a fucking ice cube", his brother would say. "Ring-a-ding." But those were the old days. Somewhat better in comparison. Somewhat worse. Tommy still had worries. He figured that one day the small, childish conflict between the Van Graffs and the Kings would escalate into something bigger than raising the raising middle fingers or spreading rumours. The Van Graffs had energy weapons. Harbingers of destruction, possessing the ability to reduce any man to a pitiful pile of ash. Tommy always had an irrational fascination with energy weapons. In today's age anybody who managed to acquire a job such as picking up shit from the ground underneath a Bramhin band could afford a laser pistol. However, if you were a King in Freeside, obtaining an energy weapon was slightly more difficult. Slightly more fun too, depending on who you ask. But the Kings has their own strengths, namely in numbers. And the man those numbers listened too.

Tommy was fortunate enough to be quite high up in the ranks of the Kings. Not that the King labelled anybody. Tommy was one of the King's go-to guys. Tough job? Call Tommy or Pace. Personal issues? Bring in Tommy or Pace. Oh how good life was, considering. The King was an odd one. Tommy had not seen nor heard of the King until Mr Houses securitrons rolled out of the Lucky 38 and cleaned up the Strip, tossing all his unwanted shit outside New Vegas. Tommy actually had the chance to join House on the Strip. He was against it. As was his leader, but Tommy's brother ensured that their tribe agreed to House's offer. Tommy stayed behind however. In the hole that was Freeside. Then along came the King. Turned things around. Best of a bad situation.

Tommy teared his eyes from the Silver Rush. He figured the time was almost at hand. The moment of fuckin' truth. Tommy handed drifted across the leather of his holster until it reached the grip. Tommy clasped the grip and removed the gun. He studied it, as he liked to do. It truly was beautiful. The ivory grip of the 9mm showed the image of a woman. Tommy could never describe her further than beautiful. The body of the pistol was engraved with some gold design. Tommy didn't know the name. The firearm was a present from his brother, a parting gift so to speak. "One of a kind" his brother had said. "Well, almost." Angel, he named it. Angel.

The door of the Wrangler exploded open. A man wearing wearing an outfit known as the Jailhouse Rocker emerged. He was short, around 5'6, and was lumbering around like a drunk deathclaw. Tommy huddled into a dark corner beside one of the abandoned building opposite the Wrangler, although it was hardly necessary. The man wouldn't have noticed Tommy had he ran into him clutching a fat man.

Tommy emerged from his shadow and followed the King member, who was making his way to the "poor section" of Freeside. Den to addicts and vagrants. "Don't forget", the King had instructed him, "...to place the body for all to see." As the King member approached the piece of rusted metal passing as a gate between the two parts of Freeside Tommy broke into a nice jog. The man stopped and turned. Tommy slowed down and pointed Angel into the Man's face. Tommy nodded.

"Aaron."

"Tommah? Christ fwend, scared the bajaysus outta me!" Aaron broke into a fit of hysterical laughter.

"Aaron, I'm pointing this gun into your face for a reason. G'night, baby." Aaron's face suddenly changed into that resembling a sixty year old man who just learned the secret recipe to Mysterious Joe's Secret Stew. Hard to believe he was mid-twenties.

"You cannae fuckin' to this, man. I'm a King!"

Tommy shook his head and sighed. "The King knows. He knows what you do. I've been following you for a few days now, Aaron. You slip into the [censored] Wrangler. Get high as a [censored] kite. Then go out to Freeside and rob the citizens we're to protect." Tommy placed his finger on the trigger. Aaron just stared at Tommy, wide-eyed and shaking. In no shape to provide a coherent counter-argument. Just as Tommy was about to pull the trigger aaron opened his mouth and uttered his final four words.

"You can't do this.."

"The King has spoken." Tommy pulled the trigger. His bulled slid through Aaron's forehead and emerged from the back of his head with some blood along for the ride. Tommy then proceeded to remove Aaron's Jailhouse apparel, leaving him in nothing but a vest and slightly soiled boxers. Tommy knew there was no time to feel anything. He needed a good sleep before. He had a feeling the King had some jobs to do.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter two: Congratulations

Tommy awoke reeking of sweat. It was a bright morning in Freeside, so far as Tommy could tell from atop his high mattress on the double bunk-bed he shared with Pacer. The bottom half was deserted. The room had two other double bunk beds, but they too were empty. Tommy must have had quite a sleep. He hopped off his bed, and slipped into a Kings outfit slightly less blood-stained. Tommy was a well-built young adult. Around 6'2. He had lost count of his age, but Tommy knew he was in his mid-twenties. He slipped on his "hobnail" boots he had received from the King to reduce the chances of getting shot in the feet. Pointless, but Tommy appreciated the King's attempts to help his boys with such limited resources. After shifting his feet until firmly in place, he headed down to eat his breakfast.

Mick approached the crowd of Freesiders huddled around the gate separating the two sections of the New Vegas slum. They seemed to be crowded around a dead body. Unusual Mick thought. Not the body, the fact that anybody seemed to give a fuck. When he reached the small mob, he realised why. Aaron, a member of the Kings, lay dead just away from the Big Man's palace, the School of Impersonation. Jesus Christ, somebody is either very brave or very stupid. Unfortunately Aaron was a very good customer of Mick's, (well, more so his partner Ralph's) and even a sort of friend. You get friendly with those who buy from your shop. And Aaron was a good kid. A little stupid. Not enough self-control, but at heart he wasn't bad. It was no surprise that the kid ended up catching a bullet, whether from the fact that he never shut up or perhaps a drug-induced attempted robbery on the wrong guy. Even so, Mick hoped whoever responsible was found and taken care of by the King.

Tommy walked down the two flights of stairs to get to the 'welcoming room'. He hoped Daryl hadn't gone on his food run yet, as Tommy hadn't eaten in about two days. Just as the thought entered his mind the African-American King known as Daryl strode by Tommy. The new King, James Tommy believed his name was, followed Daryl as he left the School of Impersonation. Goddamnit Tommy thought, but before he could stick his hand in his jean pockets to check how much caps he was carrying Pacer approached.

"The King wants a word."

"All right Pace, thanks." Tommy replied with a thick 'King' accent. Tommy had never meant to adopt the King accent as many others did, but living with fellow Kings 24/7 doesn't leave a lot of room for choice.

Tommy entered the theatre room. The King sat at the front of the room, watching one of his followers attempts to sing in a Kingly accent. His dog Rex sat by his side. . When the King noticed Tommy he beckoned him over. Tommy walked to his leader and took a seat next to Rex, who happily barked at him.

"Tommy, good work. I know you didn't want to do what you did, but what was done was necessary."

"I know King. What do you intend to do with the body?"

"Let those who felt bullied by Aaron discover it, and realise I look after them no matter the consequence." The King waved over the man on stage, Craig. "Say, you hungry Tommy?"

"Like you wouldn't f'cking believe."

Craig arrived at the table where the King and Tommy sat.

"What would you like, Tom?"

"Wouldn't be anymore Pork N Beans, ey?" Tommy enquired.

"I'm sure there will be" Craig boomed in response, and with that he walked out of the theatre to get Tommy some (well-earned) breakfast.

"Boys got a set of lungs on em', I'll give him that much." The King nodded in agreement.

"Back to our previous topic of discussion" the King began, "you did good, once more. And I'm sorry to be over-working you but a new problem has arose. The Van Graffs have a new supplier in town... Now you know what the Kings stand for. Independence."

Tommy nodded, "Libertas."

"Exactly. But a man who lives independently has no excuses and must bear the full consequence of their actions, as we unfortunately saw last night. Their supplier, a man named Mr. Smiles, is quite well-known around Freeside. The last time he hauled his energy weapons in for the Van Graffs he killed two Followers who simply wanted to check his Bramhin for chems. Reduced them to ash. He killed two more Kings who approached his caravan, made his delivery and got out before we could regroup. Well, honestly, I didn't know anything had happened until after the bastard was out of Freeside." The King shook his head. "I'm not sure what the hell the Van Graffs are at, maybe trying to show dominance? They have at least had the courtesy to use different suppliers for the last couple o' years."

Tommy waited a few seconds to ensure the King was done before replying. "What exactly is it you want me to do?"

"This will be arriving in Freeside at around twelve PM tomorrow. You and Pace are going to gather your your Kings, kill him and any guards he may have with him and seize the weapons." Tommy couldn't really believe how forthright and direct the King was being, especially about something as sensitive as the relationship between the Kings and the Van Graffs.

"That..that will trigger an all-out war against the Van Graffs."

"Maybe. Maybe not. It's not really to relevant on the face of things. We're not...I'm not going to let him go because the Van Graffs think they can walk all over the Kings."

Tommy nodded. "Before we continue with planning, I've really got to ask... How did you get this information?"

"Y'know their current guard, Daniel?" Tommy nodded. "King."

Tommy let out a chuckle. "You snake."

The King returned the smile. "That's how the Kings roll.

"Back to the plan, who do you recommend?"

"You're choice. I'd start with the Followers. As peaceful and pacifist as they are, they're hardly going to forget an attack on their own. Then assemble your boys. Not too many. Establish a plan, learn it. Talk to Mick and Ralph about supplies.." The King sighed deeply. "Do whatever is necessary to make sure no Kings die. I'm sure this guy won't wander into Freeside with one caravan guard wearing a business suit." Tommy nodded.

"Your pork n' beans, Tommy."

Tommy looked up at Craig in surprise, after which he thanked him for the tin can and began digging into the contents.

Daryl and James walked from the School to the body.

"Everybody move!" Daryl yelled. The Freesiders obliged. Daryl and James then proceeded to hoist the body of their past brother and toss it into a ditch just off the gate. Daryl was about medium height, and quite strong. Good with a sniper, too. The whole package, baby. Daryl glanced over at the new King as they pushed the body into the ditch. He was quiet, nervous-looking and on the heavy side. Must have had a nice, privileged life on the Strip. God knows why the King accepted him. Didn't matter, though. That's what the Kings were all about.

As they began making their way back towards the School, Daryl saw Mick of Mick and Ralph's run towards him. "Great" he muttered to himself.

"Hey man, what the fuck was that?"

"You know Mick, out of mind, out of sight, or something."

"What the fuck is going, here? Did you kill Aaron?" Daryl ignored him and continued walking. "Hey!" Mick ran after them again.

Daryl turned to him. "You gotta problem, take it up with the Big Man." With that he resumed walking, and wasn't bothered again.

Tommy walked out from the theatre into the welcoming room. He tossed the empty can in the bin and took his sunglasses out of his pocket, applying them.

"Hey."

Tommy looked up to see Pacer, and smiled. "Hey, we got some work that needs doing, baby."

"Don't I fucking know it" Pacer said before sticking out his hand, smiling that damn smile that you either liked him or hated him for. "Congratulations, welcome to the big leagues." Tommy shook his hand.


End file.
